


The Changing Wind

by NoLongerWriting



Category: War Crimes - Christie Golden, Warcraft, World of Warcraft, World of Warcraft - All Media Types, mists of pandaria - Fandom
Genre: Alliance, F/M, Horde, Mourning, Political Divide, References to Gameplay, War Crimes (Novel), Yearning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-16
Updated: 2017-03-16
Packaged: 2018-10-06 01:13:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10322159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoLongerWriting/pseuds/NoLongerWriting
Summary: Aysa Cloudsinger, the perfect student never acknowledged the advances of a certain Houjin during their training on the great turtle Shen Zin Su. A small part of her at the time was amused by Ji's antics, and always questioning why he would run into battle without a plan. A larger part of her thought his behavior to be dangerous and if left unchecked he would bring ruin to himself and others.How was she supposed to know that she was right on both accounts?





	

A Changing Wind

The north wind howled outside the Temple of the White Tiger; it roared with the anguish of the marred Pandaria. Marred by war, by the conquest of foreign powers and their unstoppable lust for domination. Not only was the land fractioned into broken shards, but so too was Pandaria's people. Brother fought against brother, friend against friend; none were spared the strife of war, and those with the patience to consider their actions bore their deeds as demons and battle scars alike. 

Of the thoughtful, the Tushi remained stoic throughout the war, ever alert and analytical. Aysa Cloudsinger, their master, had made a name for herself on both the Wandering Isle andvthe Alliance due to her quick wit and long term goals. She excelled in all of her classes, saved Shen Zin Shu, and lead her followers to a new land with the promise of a new life. 

However, looking back, all she wanted to do was return to the turtle. Back before the bomb, back before the bell, back before the siege, and back before she held a dying Ji in her arms. 

What did he ever do to deserve his torture? Part of her said he was reckless, like a wildfire spreading across the land, but he was also warm like mulled cider. Just as intoxicating to be around as well. With an infectious personality, and a quirky demeanor, it was difficult to not admire the Houjin. She had foreseen how his reckless actions would bring him ruin, and yet she allowed him to chase misery down that path all the same. She knew she was not to blame for what occurred in Orgrimmar, only the Orc which awaited his trial deep below the temple floors in a dark prison cell could be held accountable for those war crimes. She still could not help but to wonder about the what ifs, what if she had not been patient with him, what if she had let it be known that she returned his feelings? Would he have still left for the Horde, would it make any difference at all? 

Shaking her head, she focused on the present. He was here, and although he was not whole, there would be tenuous peace for a time. Reaching into a bucket of cold water, she grasped at a windwool cloth and quickly placed it on Ji's forehead. As a mistweaver, as his fellow student, she had decided that she would be there for him when he woke up. She kept telling herself that she had not made that decision as another thing, as a title more intimate. A title their stations before and during the war would not allow for them to hold. 

Still, she mourned. How many days had it been since the conclusion of the siege; since she watched the candle in front of him burn low? Still, to ever low there is a high, and to every high there is a brighter spark of light. What brought a more spontaneous, yet fading, spark of light than his beloved fireworks?

Bending down, she found her core easily, knowing through countless hours of self reflection and soul searching its whereabouts. Mist formed around her as she channeled the effuse, the green vapor popping with energy. The room lit up as the spell was completed, a soft sprinkling of healing rain cooling the ever burning wounds inflected upon Ji. 

There was no change in his condition, he had lost too much blood and the effects could be all too permanent. She could think of no greater pain for a person who had always desired travel, than to be confined to bed rest for the rest of a natural life. Reaching out a hand, she cupped his cheek gently. As if he were shattered glass, and not a man. 

"Oh Ji, come home to me." He was damp from the mist, he smelled of medicinal herbs and temple incense, yet beneath the bandages she could sense a life force growing stronger within. "No one will tell us, or our disciples who they can and cannot be friends of. No one shall dictate where our personal loyalties will lie. We can go back to the turtle and pretend none of this ever happened..." 

Deep down, she knew they could never go back. Deep down, she knew her followers likely needed her guidance following the victory of the rebel Horde and Alliance forces. Deep down, she knew the chances of Ji making a full recovery were astronomically thin.

But she had to do something. 

"Uchg," snapping back to reality she looked down, a grimace upon Ji's face. 

"Shhh, it will be alright, I'm here and no one will hurt you again." She grasped his arm, holding it steady as a fevered nightmare caused him to convulse. She could never save him from himself. 

"A… Aysa," he mumbled through the haze, eyes opening warily, unseeing in the temple light. 

"Ji, Ji, I am here, I'm here Ji!" Without hesitation she enveloped him in her arms. For once she did not need to think; she knew at that moment exactly what to do. "I'm not leaving Ji, I'm here. You're not alone, and you will not be again!" His eyes were like fireworks, warm, bright, and soaring into a night sky wherever the wind may take them. 

"Aysa… I…" The was a brief moment of recognition, a spark of hope, flickered in the world for all but a moment. Then he faded once more into a fitful rest, and the room once again was only filled with incense smoke which fades into the air above. The loneliness stifling.

Like the tranquil Wood of Staves, there was a haunting beauty within the tragedy before them. There would be new a new life for them, but they would have to endure trickery, and hardship before finding a shady spot to rest. Her tears would fade with months of healing and a shared future. What was would never be again; but something like it, something unknown but not unwelcome would replace their past. They were explorers, teachers, the heirs of the Great Turtle; the Alliance, the Horde. Allies, rivals, compliments to each other. Where one stood, the other would not be far behind. 

At this time though, she was alone, and the summer winds were unable to nurse the early fires to life after the harsh winter they had endured. The braziers alight with only dying embers to warm the crowds clamping for a warchief's head below. 

Fire cannot survive without air, but air howls all the same without it.

**Author's Note:**

> There is NOTHING for this couple and they are so cute and have meaningful dialogue in both the starting zone and SoO. Yet another ship to come out of Pandaria. 
> 
> MoP me off the floor. I am a puddle.


End file.
